The UnHalloween

Never did there exist a holiday with less appeal to me as an adult than that of Halloween. As a kid, of course, I had no such reservations but somewhere along the line, I started to get uneasy at the thought of costumes in general, and costume parties altogether.

Were I to be situated in the middle of suburbia, I know I would enjoy the distribution of candy on Halloween night. I would be the guy who gave out the full-sized candy bars, even though I might have to borrow the loot to defray the cost of said candy bars, at today’s prices.

Candy bars are not a nickel apiece, or three for a dime anymore, as they were when my sister JT and I used to make the trek to SAV-ON Drugs Store, back in the sixties. We went to buy-I don’t exactly know what, except that we searched for the coveted soda pop bottles along the way, so as to be able to redeem them for three cents per. 

Not until I delved into the topic of my own anxiety issues, did I make the connection that the inability to know who was behind each mask, was the source of my problems with others wearing costumes. It is enough to break the deal. 

Social situations are challenging enough under the best of conditions for me, let alone having to figure out who it is I am talking to. As a kid, figuring out who was behind the mask, is what it’s all about, but as an adult, not so much. Adulting can be such a challenge!

As kids, our family stuck together, as we made the rounds in the ‘hood, the big boys being entrusted with the little ones’ safety. We knew where the “good” houses were, including the one where the nice lady preferred to throw a few pennies into each bag.

Like the three nickel-candy-bars for a dime, it was a sign of the times that those pennies held much attraction to me. Hey, it only took five of the little darlings to buy a bag of M&M’s, even if those were the pre-dark-chocolate days.

Regardless of how far our wanderings took us, or what time we rolled back into the house, all of us kids surrendered our bags of loot to Mama, who then spread it all out on the kitchen table. With all eyes glued to the action, she then proceeded to redistribute the mound of treasure. She included in this division a pile for Papa, who had his sweet tooth also, and a pile for all who remained, including the “little kids” and even Mama herself.

No one moaned and no one complained. It was the process and a small price to pay for what would then come our way, parent-sanctioned and all.

My teaching partner, Paul, who
loves Halloween.

When our boys were small, Gluten-Free Mama and I either ran them down to Grandma Beverly’s in Willits, and took them around the neighborhood, or we had a Halloween shindig up here on the mountain, and maybe, just maybe, we would get one or two adventurous mountain folk, to bring their kids by for candy.

These days there is always a party here on the mountain, a few of them even held right up at HeadSodBuster’s spot, a two-minute stroll up the driveway for me. I would retire at my usual 7:00 time, arise at eleven after four hours of sleep, and meander up to the party site, which would be in full swing.

It being the first thing in the morning for me, I was raring to go, and I never gave costumes a thought. I can’t help the way Gluten-Free Mama dresses me, anyway.

The weather is supposed to be good this year, unlike last year, when it rained. There was a big tent set up at the Rusty Shovel, and a bonfire, so the rain was only as much of a factor as you wanted to make of it. HeadSodBuster didn’t seem to mind it. 

He was regaling us with a story just the other day, that made me chuckle. “There I was in my spaceman suit, lying out in the rain, just a-smilin’ away. ‘Hey, come in out of the rain,’ folks said. And, hey, eventually, I did.” 

I recognize that I am in the minority, when it comes to Halloween, so I usually keep my jaws from flapping excessively on the topic. Occasionally, such as this morning, I let my fingers make a statement, but I wear gloves when I do so, in keeping with the occasion.

Who are those masked fingers, anyway?

With a get-up like this,
who needs a costume?